


A Couple

by deaneatscake



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Bathroom Sex, Cas doesn't understand feelings, Dean is Bad at Feelings, First Time, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sam Is So Done, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 05:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11890992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deaneatscake/pseuds/deaneatscake
Summary: Cas and Dean work out their relationship, one dingy booth and bathroom at a time.





	A Couple

**Author's Note:**

> This was SUPPOSED to be a character study but then it ended up being sex in a bathroom???? The wonders and joys of writing!

Cas has been flirted with way too many times. Or at least, that’s what he’s been told by Dean. He doesn’t realize it most of the time; his firm belief is to try and be nice to everyone unless otherwise prompted. And it would make sense to get the same courtesy extended, right?

Unless obviously not.

If he looks at Dean’s face now it’s very clear that he again is being flirted with. They’re in a shabby bar somewhere in Colorado after finishing their case; he didn’t actually want to come but Dean had insisted and after Sam had declined, well, what could he do? And now they’re sitting here, three beers – or in his case, cocktails – in and the waitress looks like she wouldn’t be averse to do naughty things with him if his observation skills of Dean’s distress can be trusted.

He’s not interested, but he also never learned how to say that (because despite Dean’s obvious discontent he insists that “Cas should have some fun”) so he just sticks to ordering another cocktail, hoping that looking solely at Dean will solve the issue magically.

The way she sourly looks at him, then at Dean, then back at him, makes him hope that he did get rid of her. Cas figures that as long as she brings him another Margarita this will suffice (and decides that the tactic of looking at Dean should be saved for future reference).

“Dude,” Dean hisses when she’s gone. “You can’t do that.” It’s hard to see in the dimly lit bar but he looks embarrassed. Yes, his cheeks are definitely red and Cas knows that Dean hasn’t had enough alcohol to produce such a reaction.

“Why?” he asks confused. He knows that – accidentally – turning down women’s advances would usually make Dean mad or happy; but embarrassed? He’s not sure what to make of it.

“She’s thinking -she’s thinking we’re like a couple or something” Dean mumbles.

Oh. This makes sense, Cas thinks sadly, because this would definitely be a reason for Dean to be embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “But I’m not sure what I did to suggest this.”

“You – looked at me, man.”

“I look at you all the time. You look at me all the time.” (This is true, because Dean watches him most of the time, albeit only to make sure he adapts to his new life.)

“Yeah, but – that’s – I don’t, and that’s not the point!” Dean’s cheeks are getting even redder. “Straight men don’t order fancy cocktails with straws and umbrellas and then look at their male companion while ignoring the hot waitress.”

Cas sighs. He doesn’t want to do this – he has a million answers to this one, varying from “I’m not straight, I’m not even a man technically” to “You didn’t want me to look at her” to “Why does it hurt me so much that it bothers you, Dean?” - but all of them would open a can of spiders he doesn’t want to open. Or was it snails?

“I’m sorry,” he repeats instead. “Thank you for informing me.”

Dean looks less than pleased but Cas is unsure what to do now; he knows that saying you’re sorry and promising to not repeat the upsetting action is usually the best course of action but if that doesn’t satisfy Dean…

“If you want me to, I can take her up on the offer. I believe she offered something. Sex, I think.”

“No!” Dean says quickly and way too loudly. He looks around before continuing, in a softer voice. “No, we – dude, we’re sharing the motel room with Sam, that wouldn’t be nice. You know. And you can’t get a new motel room now. Not without my credit card. And my credit card is almost breaking, so – and anyway, she probably thinks you want a threesome now because she thinks – it doesn’t matter, just – don’t, okay? Bad idea. Let me tell you that.”

So this wasn’t what Dean wants either; human interactions are frustrating.

The waitress comes back with the cocktail and beer and leaves without a word. Dean mumbles something about ‘no tip for you, ma’am’ and then proceeds to talk about the music that they’re playing right now. Cas doesn’t know the artist but he enjoys listening to Dean and, as far as he knows, his weird mood is mostly gone, so that’s a success, too.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Thankfully, no one tries to flirt with Cas the next few times they’re at a bar. Cas knows that this is both for his and Dean’s benefit – he doesn’t want to deal with pushy women or a sulky Dean.

It’s been a good few nights so far; nowadays, they’ve been settling into a routine where they go drinking alone. Sam is glad that he doesn’t have to go with them – muttering something about “research” and “you got a new bestie now, Dean, go make him drunk”, sometimes accompanied by lewd gestures which purpose Cas doesn’t understand.

(Dean seems to get them but doesn’t tell, no matter what Cas threatens or promises.)

It’s their seventh case and eleventh bar together (sometimes Dean drags Cas into the almost non-existent nightlife of Lebanon) and they’re sitting in a booth, right next to each other because there are mysterious stains on the bench on the other side. Cas doesn’t mind – he likes being near Dean, having their knees bump together, being able to smell the lemon scented shower gel Dean uses (even when he denies it) when he leans over to talk over the loud music.

Cas is perfectly content when something unexpected happens: a woman flirts with Dean.

Well, it’s not exactly unexpected – Cas knows that Dean hooks up with women on a regular basis but he has never been there to witness it. To his defense, Dean looks as surprised as Cas feels jealous – the formerly sweet fruity cocktail he’s been drinking turns sour in his mouth; his stomach revolts although he hasn’t drunk that much.

It hurts. It shouldn’t, Cas knows this is completely inappropriate, but he can’t help it. There’s no way to escape human emotions – and not even escaping the situation is possible here because Cas is still firmly trapped between Dean and the wall. He has to watch.

The woman – who is obviously getting cheered on by her squad in the back of the bar – is giggling, showing her cleavage seductively and muttering flirtations into Dean’s ear that Cas really doesn’t want to hear. He grows quiet and closes his eyes, trying to make a pattern on the condensed water on his glass by heart. A few weeks ago he has learned that keeping your fingers busy helps to keep emotions in check and he desperately needs that now.

He tries to calm himself by thinking about the different outcomes – Dean saying yes, leaving him to go to the motel alone, Dean saying yes and giving him the keys to the Impala (he quickly dismisses that), Dean saying no because he doesn’t want to be the ass who makes Cas walk, Dean saying no –

“Sorry, Theresa, I’m already with someone.”

Cas opens his eyes wide when he feels an arm sliding over his shoulders; the lemon scent is unbelievably strong when Dean leans in. He can feel Dean pressed against him through the thin fabric of his clothes and swallows. There’s no way he can look Dean in the eyes because if he does that he’s done for; it’s hard hiding his emotions on a daily basis but with Dean this close to him? Impossible.

“He doesn’t look pleased,” Theresa says. This isn’t true although Cas can see why she would come to that conclusion; he’s not exactly oozing joy and excitement because he has trouble holding himself together as it is.

“Oh, he is, sweetheart, trust me,” Dean answers. “Just been a long day for us both, so would you mind?”

Theresa scoffs but complies; almost immediately, the arm around him vanishes and Cas can breathe again. He still mourns the loss which shouldn’t be possible but is. Human emotions are fascinating.

“Phew,” Dean says. “Now we got that going for us, right?” He pokes Cas in the ribs and takes a sip of his cocktail. As far as Cas knows this isn’t customary but he ignores it because it’s Dean.

“Why did that work?” he asks curiously. It’s still a little bit difficult to breathe and he notices with embarrassment that he’s somewhat aroused.

“Why did what work?” Dean asks as he sloshes the liquid around in his mouth. “Hey, that isn’t too bad, can I have more?”

Cas wordlessly slides the cocktail over the table. “You said you’re with me,” he explains. “But she could see that before, didn’t she? And she still tried.”

Dean coughs. And coughs. And coughs. The cocktail must have gone in the wrong way; Cas is alarmed. He doesn’t know what do in this situation – except slapping on his chest area, he knows that much – so he tries to do that, but Dean waves it aside. “It’s – okay,” he wheezes. “Fucking shit, I didn’t know they put… stuff inside that cocktail.”

It’s a plain old Sex on the Beach – they didn’t. Cas tells him as much.

“Well, they must have made a mistake,” Dean asserts, still sounding a bit hoarse. “Anyway, what do you say we order a burger?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?” Dean’s cheeks redden; the coughing must have impacted him more than Cas had initially thought.

“Why saying this worked,” Cas provides again.

“Oh, that,” Dean says. He takes a napkin from the table and smooths the edges. “Well, I didn’t say – I mean, I did say I’m already with someone, but I didn’t mean – you know, I was implying we were… a couple, you know.” His speech is almost inaudible now and the edges of the napkin look frayed.

Cas’ thoughts are racing; why would he say that? He remembers how upset Dean was when Cas had – accidentally – implied they were a couple, and now he did it himself? It doesn’t seem logical and also a bit unfair.

“I thought you weren’t comfortable with suggesting you and me were in a relationship,” he says cautiously, taking back the cocktail and gulping down the rest. (There are, indeed, no ‘things’ of whatever variety inside the cocktail.)

“I never – I never said that,” Dean protests weakly. “Or maybe I did, but look, that’s actually a good tactic to get rid of the girls, no? So you have – I don’t know, my explicit permission to use that too. I mean it’s not like we’re going to see them ever again anyway, right?”

“Right,” Cas agrees. He still doesn’t get it, but he still stoves it away for further use because it would definitely come in handy. It would, of course, hurt to pretend something that he desperately wants, but he doesn’t want to dismiss a course of action just because it makes him feel bad. If he did that, his days would be spent watching Netflix and crying which, as Dean had assured him isn’t a healthy life.

(Not that Dean knows much about healthy lives either.)

But there’s still one thing he’s curious about. “Why didn’t you just go with her?” he asks. “She looks attractive and she was interested in you.”

Dean growls at him. “She looks attractive?” he asks before clearing his throat and then continuing, softer: “Nah, I just wasn’t – in the mood. You know, we’re sharing hotel rooms and anyway, she didn’t look that good either. Now, do you want some burgers?”

He does want burgers; they’ve been inside here for almost three hours now.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

The bar visits continue, now on an almost regular basis. Whenever they’re at the bunker they’re out and about at least three times a week, not always drinking (Dean is actually trying to limit Cas’ and, therefore, also his alcohol intake) but always enjoying themselves.

At their usual joint in Lebanon no one even bothers them anymore; when they’re on the road, sometimes a woman (and one time a man, leading to even more choking and coughing from Dean’s side) comes up to either of them, looking for a good time but getting turned down by their to-go excuse “we’re already together”.

Cas feels selfish for longing for that moments when he feels wanted by Dean. He knows that this is an illusion, but it’s difficult to acknowledge that when you’re already infatuated with someone. Also, he gains confidence every time he gets to do things that please Dean (and, for some reason, turning down the flirtations never fail to make him happy) and that can’t be that bad of a thing, right?

Right.

It’s the one time where they’re at a bar with Sam when things go downhill. Cas is unsure how this happened – he knows that Dean had tried to actively dismiss Sam (both with words and looks, the looks which Cas didn’t understand) but he had insisted that he wanted to ‘join the fun’.

Cas doesn’t mind per se, but he now sits opposite to a very grumpy Dean and next to Sam and it’s a weird situation. He can’t remember the last time they actually didn’t sit next to each other – although the stained bench was a one time incident they had just fallen naturally into this pattern after that. It feels… wrong, although Dean’s knee still sometimes bumps against his, along with his foot that sometimes hits his calf.

It’s surprisingly soft, up to the point that Cas thinks that this is intentional, but whenever he looks up to see if Dean may have wanted his attention he looks the other way. Still, he stretches out his feet a bit more until they’re resting comfortably against Dean’s. He notices Dean smiling faintly but since he doesn’t say anything to this, Cas doesn’t either.

He just enjoys for what it is – or isn’t. He’s not sure; another reason why he feels selfish.

All in all, it’s an amusing evening – they crack jokes, eat burgers, and Cas gets to drink a whole cocktail all by himself because for once, Dean doesn’t try to steal a sip here and then. It’s fun and everything here makes Cas feel light headed – the music, the infectious laughter of the brothers, the slight pressure against his feet every now and then.

It’s why, when the waitress approaches with a wink and a flirty demeanor, he doesn’t think twice about it before saying “No, sorry, I’m already taken” and nodding at Dean while nudging his feet. This is what they’ve been doing for weeks now and it never occurred to Cas that changing the audience might also change the protocol.

Because this time Dean freezes. The solid heat of Dean’s leg vanishes and he grabs his beer glass so tight that Cas fears it might explode. His heart races; where did he go wrong this time? Thankfully, at least the waitress plays her part and leaves, without even so much as taking the order.

“I –” he tries to start, but he doesn’t know what to do. Say I’m sorry? He doesn’t even know where he went wrong; it feels dishonest to say. And he isn’t sorry, at least not for the reasons he thinks he should be.

“Dude!” Dean says and puts the beer glass down with much more force than necessary. “That was – that was uncalled for, man! I thought I taught you better than that.”

Cas doesn’t understand; Dean had taught Cas, yes, that this kind of interaction was okay, even encouraged. But he knows about human behavior that right now, Dean wants Cas to stay quiet. So he does.

It’s all so confusing that he doesn’t even notice that Sam is still sitting next to them until he clears his throat loudly; then, his – and Dean’s – whole attention are on him.

“Dude,” Dean says again, this time to Sam. “I didn’t – that’s not what it – you’re being a little shit, you know that?”

There must be some kind of conversation going on between them, with Sam purely conveying everything with gestures and looks, but he is too lost to figure it out. Also, he’s feeling sick, so he stands up and mumbles “Excuse me” before running off to the bathroom.

He gets inside a cubicle because he legit isn’t sure if he has to throw up or not; he has hardly done it before and he doesn’t know the signs yet, so he wants to make sure. Inside, he kneels down, trying not to soak up too much of the dubious liquids on the floor.

This was all wrong. This was why he felt bad all this time – because he knew that some time, it would backfire. Of course, Dean would only be okay with pretending for so long – maybe he finally noticed that there was a reason behind Cas turning down each and every advance. He can feel sweat pooling on his forehead and notices that he’s shivering.

He’s probably going to throw up, he thinks vaguely, but he doesn’t really care. It’s not like he didn’t deserve this for – for things he doesn’t even know how to name. Love, maybe? Selfishness, definitely. Being a weird and fucked up human being who isn’t actually a human being.

An alien trapped inside a weird meat suit, never able to find a suitable partner because, let’s face it, it’s not like his infatuation with Dean would ever vanish. Cas has supervised the origin of the Earth, has sat patiently for thousands of years observing it – he knows a thing or two about infinity, and his love for Dean is endless both in space and time.

Cas is not entirely sure what being pathetic entails, but he feels like he might be it.

He actually doesn’t throw up, but he still stays for a few minutes to regain what little strength he might have left. Just when he’s about to stand up, he hears a knock at the door.

“Cas?”

His breath hitches. It’s Dean because of course it is. For reasons he can’t fathom Dean has always made it his top priority to – look after him. Make sure he ate, give him medicine when he ‘felt feverish’, show him all the movies (although he already knew all of them because of Metatron, he didn’t have it in him to tell Dean that much).

Not like he deserved any of it because he mostly used it to bath in every last bit of attention.

“Yeah,” he answers faintly. He doesn’t stand up and unlocks the door – he really doesn’t want to see Dean right now.

“You’re alright, buddy?”

Cas looks at the dirty toilet in front of him and then down on himself. He didn’t puke, he didn’t faint, and he’s well rested and fed. Disregarding his emotions, he is alright, so he agrees loudly.

“Okay, that’s great,” Dean says, almost hesitantly. “You’re – um, fine to come out or are you, you know, doing something in there?”

It’s interesting how now he can almost hear Dean blush; weeks of observation are finally worth it, he guesses.

“I’m fine,” he answers and stands up to unlock the door. He still doesn’t want to see Dean but he also doesn’t think that Dean would leave otherwise – it’s just not his style. Trying to avoid his gaze, he goes over to the sink and washes his hands. If Dean thinks he just went to the toilet like a regular person then that’s fine with him.

He’s not prepared for Dean to creep up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” rushes out of him and Cas eyes widen. It’s not that Dean has never said this, but – well, he can count it on one hand.

“Why are you sorry?” he asks cautiously.

“For, um, reacting the way I did. It’s just – Sam, you know?” He smiles helplessly. “He’s a nosy little shit and sometimes he takes things too literally.”

Cas thinks he begins to understand. “So Sam thought that you and I were indeed a couple,” he assesses the situation. “And he wouldn’t be happy with that.” He nods and feels almost bad that he just rushed off, without further explanation. This makes perfect sense, because why would Sam like the thought of his brother being in love with him?

“No, he wouldn’t be – he wouldn’t be not happy. He’s just – he’s my little brother, you know.”

“I do know that, Dean.”

“No, you don’t understand, it’s –” Dean sighs. “I don’t know how to say it.”

That makes two of us, Cas thinks, I never know how to say anything.

“Okay.” Dean takes a deep breath and starts to fumble with the soap dispenser. “He thought that we, you know, didn’t tell him that we’re a couple. Shit.”

A huge splat of soap is in his hand and jacket. Cas shakes his hand; he still isn’t sure what kind of conversation they’re having here, in this dingy bathroom. At least they’re alone.

“So what I mean is, he wasn’t mad because we’re together – I mean, we’re not – but because he thought I didn’t tell him. So I, um, tried to make sure that he knows we aren’t. And I may have been a little bit too harsh.”

Cas makes room for Dean to get rid of the soap; they’re standing close, way too close for Cas’ comfort right now.

“I mean,” Dean goes on. “I was definitely too harsh. I didn’t want to… hurt your feelings.”

“I see,” Cas answers. Dean is ‘hurting his feelings’ on a daily basis, just by existing in his space, but not quite there, but he feels like this is a bad time to tell him. It’s not his fault, after all.

“And also, if we were, you know, he would be okay with it.” Dean grabs a paper towel but doesn’t actually dry himself with it; his cheeks are considerably red again.

“Okay,” Cas says. He’s unsure what to answer – if there even is an answer that Dean is expecting.

“I just wanted to tell you that.”

“Okay,” he repeats.

“So you don’t get the wrong impression. Of Sam, I mean.”

This is getting ridiculous. He hasn’t been doing this stuff for weeks, hasn’t endured every possible human emotion from happiness to arousal to jealousy to pain just for him to stand here, without a clue what this all means.

So he does the most reasonable thing he can think of and asks: “What do you want to say, Dean?” It hardly works, but it’s worth a shot. It’s always worth a shot.

Dean swallows visibly. “What I want to say is, is – that he would okay with us being together.”

“You already said that.”

“Yeah, but, I mean, fuck, Cas, do I really have to spell it out for you? I just talked to him and he said – he said he would be okay if we, you know, came out of this bathroom and were together.”

He’s still standing so close, and Cas can’t concentrate. Dean has already told him this a million times before so he’s getting annoyed; he should either tell him what he wants to say, or they should leave.

“Like, it would be, you know, an even better excuse if it weren’t actually an excuse you know? And I thought because you nudged my foot -” Dean must see the look in his eyes because he suddenly gulps and looks away. “Never mind. Obviously I misread that.”

“You nudged my foot, so it wouldn’t be an excuse?” Cas knows he’s being ridiculous here, but he really doesn’t understand what Dean wants to say.

“No, you nudged my foot – but that’s not – that’s not the excuse. Unless, of course, you didn’t want to nudge my foot.”

“I don’t know why this is important, but I did want to do it. Nudge your foot.”

“These words don’t even make sense in my mind anymore,” Dean sighs.

“If it helps, nothing in this conversation makes any sense to me.”

He can’t help but smile too when he sees Dean laughing. “I’m starting to get that. Cas, what I want to say is – let’s start with the easy stuff, I want to know if, at any given point, the thought of – you know, being with me, has crossed your mind.”

That’s… a loaded question, Cas acknowledges as much. He’s unsure if it’s genuine curiosity or if Dean is gearing up to point at him and shout ‘dude, you’re disgusting’. But as it stands, his ability to lie is even worse than his ability to understand most of the human behavior, so what choice does he have?

“It did,” he decides to say.

“Oh God,” Dean says and lets out a stuttered breath. “That’s – wait, like, ironically, or, just being a theory, or you know, because you, um, wanted it?”

“The latter.” Because, honestly, what use does it have to deny anything now?

“Wow, um.” Cas is wondering if he can die of shame. Dean is clearly overwhelmed, why did he say this? “That’s – you know, Sam wouldn’t mind.”

“I think that’s the fifth time you're saying this.”

“Stop being a smartass,” Dean says and then surges forward to kiss him.

At least, that’s what Cas thinks it’s supposed to be. It’s actually very messy, Dean doesn’t really hit the mark because Cas has taken a surprised step back; he actually hits his head on the wall but when they finally melt together, it’s fucking overwhelming.

It’s not like he hasn’t kissed before, but he hasn’t kissed Dean. He can feel his brain shutting down – which is an uneasy experience, because for a long time he didn’t even have a brain, per se – and tries to gasp for air without letting go of Dean.

Dean seems to notice his struggles because he lets got and rests his forehead on Cas’.

“I take that as a yes,” he says and Cas doesn’t know what he means; based on Dean’s almost hysterical giggle he doesn’t know either.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says again. “I never actually asked you.”

“You asked several questions.” Cas is still a bit out of breath and he wants to kiss Dean again and why are they even having this conversation when it’s obvious that they could convey so much more with their bodies?

“I know, I – never mind.” Dean laughs and looks around. “We’re in a really dirty bathroom and this is like 90% of my bad hook ups.”

“I’m – sorry?” he says curtly.

“Oh no, no, no, God, no, I wasn’t saying that – I didn’t mean you’re bad, or a hook up, it was just – funny.” Dean sighs. “No, it wasn’t funny. I’m sorry. I’m horny and embarrassed and a little bit – I really… like you.”

“I really like you too.”

“That’s great. Great.” Dean looks around before dragging him into the same bathroom stall where he almost but didn’t quite puke his guts out.

“You’re okay, Cas?” he asks while he locks the door behind them. “With that, I mean? And us. And, um, making out in a dirty cubicle.”

“Dean,” Cas says exasperatedly because he’s seriously at the end of his patience right now. Dean kissed him, he likes him – which is a revelation bigger than the one in the Bible – and he knows that this should warrant some serious acknowledgment or discussion, but screw this, he’s had enough with human customs and right now, there is only one very human thing he wants to explore in his mind.

So he does kiss him again, and surprisingly it’s still as overwhelming as before, although he did have preparation. He saves that in the back of his mind for further testing, but right now he’s trying his hardest to concentrate on the task at hand.

They’re kissing for what seems like an eternity until Dean finally grabs his shirt and pushes him back into the wall, resting his knee between his legs in the process and – oh, fucking hell. He can feel that Dean is hard in his jeans too, which isn’t exactly an achievement, but nevertheless one he wants to frame and hang in his room.

“I’m not sure we can, um, do much,” Dean pants into his mouth while he plays with the hem of his shirt. “I mean, this isn’t the best place for – you know.”

Cas is not sure if he knows what Dean means – he presumes he means anal sex, which sounds both terrifying and impractical, so he simply nods and tries to chase Dean’s lips again. Dean sighs and melts against him, gripping his hips tight.

“I’m serious,” he says after a short breath. “I’m like, I really would love to do things properly, but I’m not sure how long I can last even now, so I doubt we’re going to make it into my room.”

This sends a strange surge of arousal through his body; he’s not sure what ignited it, if it’s Dean’s breathing or his raspy voice or the things he said, so he just tries to suppress a groan that would be way too embarrassing. He feels completely dishevelled, not even remotely in charge of the situation, and Dean is a beacon of light who somehow managed to retain his posture, so he says the only thing that’s on his mind.

“I do whatever you want me to,” he whispers seriously because he knows that it’s not in Dean’s nature to ever make him do something he doesn’t want.

Now Dean groans, and this makes Cas even harder than before; he hurries to kiss him again, trying to hold onto Dean when he slowly dips into his jeans, cursing something incomprehensible while he fumbles with his belt.

Then his jeans are unbuttoned – Cas wonders what it says about him that he didn’t notice that – and there’s a hand on his dick and his brain actually short circuits. “Fuck,” he says and Dean groans in response, stroking first carefully, then more confidently.

It occurs to Cas that he should extend him the same courtesy so he tries to coordinate his hands enough to get to Dean’s jeans, too; it’s difficult because Dean keeps stroking him, kissing him, slowly works the other hand up his shirt until he reaches his nipples and Cas has to gather all his strength to not come here and then. This wouldn’t be polite, he knows as much.

When he reaches Dean’s button he can hear him huff impatiently. Dean lets go of Cas’ dick to fumble his own jeans open, pulling down his boxers before touching Cas again. He starts kissing down his jaw, into the dip of his neck, and Cas has to take a few moments before he realizes that he really, really should start reciprocating.

He takes Dean’s dick in his hand and hears Dean hitching his breath, his rhythm faltering for a moment. “Fuck,” he mirrors Cas’ words from earlier. He’s unsure what to do – yeah, he had touched himself, but that doesn’t mean that Dean would be happy with it – but the way Dean thrusts in his hand impatiently makes him think that maybe it’s okay whatever he does, so he just starts stroking.

It’s a mess at first, but soon they’re working out a rhythm, together, and when Dean works his mouth up again Cas catches him again in a kiss. It’s a bit wetter than he wants it to be, but right now he doesn’t feel like he has any strength left to do something coherent so he just goes with the flow. He can feel his legs getting weaker as the arousal pools in his stomach and Dean puts his hand away from his nipple and steadies him with his arm.

“You alright there, buddy?” he chuckles and Cas tries to nod. “I see.”

Their strokes are getting frantic now and Dean tries nothing to hide his groans, so Cas doesn’t either. It’s quite possible that there are people coming and going out of the bathroom, but for some reason that makes Cas’ pick up the pace even more because fuck, if that isn’t hot.

(It’s fascinating, really, how many things he finds arousing without knowing why or how; human arousal is truly unique in that regard.)

“Can I?” Dean asks and slowly tries to bat Cas’ away from his dick. Cas nods again, trying to not – not – claw his fingernails into Dean’s sides when he lets go of his dick for a short time. It’s all worth it in the end when Dean takes both their dicks in his hand, stroking them even faster.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters and now he does claw his fingernails into every part of Dean he can comfortably reach which only elicits another groan from Dean.

“It’s really sexy when you swear,” he says. “You should do that more often.”

“I’ll – try to remember it,” Cas answer and notices that Dean is trying to lean even more into him and into his hands. He makes an effort of scraping his nails over the entirety of Dean’s belly and can feel Dean stutter for a moment.

Soon it’s too much and still not enough and he bucks his hips to get even more friction before he can feel himself snap and come; he can’t even warn Dean, he just spills everything over his hand and his shirt but Dean apparently doesn’t care. He groans even more, almost bites into his neck before recollecting himself and stroking even faster, trying to finish himself off.

When Cas comes off his high his dick is even more sensitive than before but what starts as a faint pain soon dissolves into pleasure – another thing that he should be looking into – and he watches with fascination how Dean works himself through his own orgasm, following not so shortly after, making even more mess on their clothes.

A few moments pass before Dean starts to giggle hysterically. “Shit,” he says, “How are we going to explain that to Sam?”

“You know, if I were still an angel I could have cleaned us with a snap of my fingers,” Cas answers.

“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t be here in that bathroom with me in the first place.”

“That’s probably true.”

Dean suddenly groans; and not a sexy groan. “We just had sex in a bathroom,” he says. “Like, I imagined our first time… way too often, and I never thought I’d fuck you in the toilet of a bar.”

“Technically, we didn’t have sex, if that’s soothing you,” Cas deadpans before joining into the laughter. He can see and feel that Dean doesn’t actually care so it’s easy to joke about it, something he never thought he would happen. (He is unsure if his calculations were so wrong because he really is that bad at reading human interactions or because Dean’s a stubborn bastard or possibly both.)

“Okay, what we’re going to do is, um, you can probably just pull up your jacket, and I’m just – I don’t know, wash up a bit and hope the best.”

“The bar was pretty dark, if you ask me. It was hard to read your face.”

“You’re reading my face?” Dean shakes his head. “I’m not sure if this is worse or better than reading my thoughts.”

Cas is almost positive that this is a joke; the remaining doubt prompts him to stay quiet and instead pull up the zipper of his jacket and his jeans.

Dean is already out of the stall, trying to work with what they have in the bathroom. Cas watches him for a few moments before he asks: “Does this mean I’m with you now?” It seems like an important question.

“Dude, that was – that was what the entire conversation was about,” Dean says and Cas blushes. “That’s why I said that I didn’t want the excuse to be an excuse anymore, you know? Because we only always said that we’re together.” He looks at his shirt and frowns. At least it doesn’t look like he came on it anymore, instead it’s more like he had a fight with a leaky shower head and lost.“Fuck this shit, let’s just take Sam and go home.”

He takes a step towards Cas and carefully slots their hands together. They don’t separate until shortly before they join Sam in the booth, but it’s obvious that he must have seen them.

Predictably, he grimaces, looking pointedly at Dean’s shirt. “You are disgusting,” he says. “Dis-gus-ting. I can’t even enjoy a night out with my brother and my best friend without you ruining it.” He laughs, and Dean laughs too, so Cas suspects it’s okay. He did say that Sam would be fine with them walking out of the bathroom and being together.

“It’s not like you didn’t know what you’d push me into,” Dean answers snarky. “You said go get him.”

“Yeah, get him. Not – whatever the fuck you were doing. I don’t even want to know. And no, I didn’t know that I would push you into this. I hope you guys got a tetanus shot. And NO, I don’t want to hear a dirty joke about other shots. Shush it.”

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

The next time they’re at a bar, Sam refused to come with them, insisting that they’d probably only make out in a bathroom again. Which isn’t true in the least – after Cas had discovered the joy of getting a blowjob on the memory foam of Dean’s bed he was sure that he’d never be able to come anywhere else again (he was, of course, mistaken).

Still, it’s probably best for everyone involved that Sam isn’t with them because when Dean is on his third beer and second cocktail – and not even remotely drunk, by any standards – he starts to talk to random women in the bar.

He doesn’t flirt with them, he just says “I’m sorry, girls, but I’m with this adorable angel right there,” to which Cas has to respond “I’m not an angel, Dean,” and then Dean just smiles so adorable that he has to kiss him. Cas suspects that this is an elaborate ruse, but for some reason he can’t quite name and doesn’t care to, he doesn’t mind in the slightest.

They’re getting thrown out after Dean worked his way through about half of the women, but it’s fucking worth it. (And, coincidentally, Cas finds out that the Impala is a very good place to make out, too.)

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on [tumblr](deaneatscake.tumblr.com)!


End file.
